


The Shadow of the Day

by Orison



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Catherine makes an appearance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Fix-it, Friendship, Gen, and Danny had something to say to her, but only because she was in the episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24739300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orison/pseuds/Orison
Summary: Missing scenes from 9x11- A fix-it story.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	The Shadow of the Day

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Still here, still not over the finale, still unable to let go of these characters.
> 
> I had already written a 9x11 story last year so I’m not sure why I felt the need to write another. The muse is still hurting so I’m not going to question it- I’m sure she had a reason for it, even if she failed to share it with me. 
> 
> Thanks to Phoebe Miller for reading it and giving me the okay to post it.

***

_‘These mountains that you are carrying,_  
 _you were only supposed to climb.’_  
— Najwa Zebian

__

***

“Were you ever going to call me?”

It had been 33 days. 

A little over a month, and Danny needed to know. 

Steve had been attacked in his home, and no one had told him.

They had almost killed him, and the rest of the team had failed to mention it until he’d come back. Seventy-two hours of ignorant bliss that still hurt to think about, followed by 792 more of ramped-up anxiety. 

Caring from a distance wasn’t easy, especially if the other person was reluctant to seek contact.

The texts he had sent Steve —a grand total of twenty-six— had been answered exactly five times. 

The phone calls he had made —three, because hastily pressing the ‘end call’ button after dialing the number didn’t count— had required skills worthy of the finest interrogation techniques.

He had given him all the space he needed, cut him all the slack he possibly could. The man had lost one of the key figures in his life, deserved to grieve as he pleased. Even if he knew damn well it wasn’t the right way to go through it and the fake reassurances he had extorted from him had done nothing to allay his fears.

The decision to fly to Montana hadn’t been taken lightly. Danny had weighed pros and cons over the course of his sleepless nights, restrained himself for as long as he could. Eventually, he had come to the conclusion that he’d rather be yelled at than try to pretend he could go on with his life while his best friend grieved alone 3,000 miles away.

He knew the only way to appease himself was to get there and see what he could do to help. And the moment he’d laid eyes on Steve, he wished he’d gotten there sooner. 

Now, sitting on the stairs outside of Joe’s ranch, he watched him drag his hands across his face and let them fall into his lap as he considered the answer.

“I… I don’t know, Danny. It’s… I’ve been through a lot.” 

“I can see that.” 

Every fiber of his friend’s being screamed for help, from the thick beard to the hunched posture and the slight tremor of his blood-stained hands.

“I guess I’ve lost track of time. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need apologies, Steve. I just wanna know if you’re okay.”

Steve raised his head, tilting it towards him. His eyes had that glassy, vacant look Danny had only seen a handful of times. _‘What do you think?’_ , it said. It made him want to put his arms around him and never let go.

“I’m here to help. Okay? I gave you time and— and more than enough space, but a couple of texts and a few words here and there weren’t enough for me anymore and I’m glad I came because that… what I saw earlier, with that lawyer… that is not you.”

The lines on Steve’s face hardened, if possible, even more. That was a part of him he had desperately tried to hide. “You don’t know what I’ve done. Who I was… before.”

If Danny knew, he’d be horrified. War had forced him to bend rules and act against his nature to secure targets and accomplish missions. He had followed and given orders he wasn’t proud of, making hard choices as he fought for what he believed was the greater good. It was not easy to explain to those who hadn’t lived through it.

“You’re right, I don’t. But that was a long time ago. You’re not that man anymore.”

Steve looked down at his bruised knuckles, then towards the cabin where Hassan’s lawyer was still tied to a chair. “I guess I still am.” It was part of the reason he had not reached out, why he had called Catherine for help instead of him. She knew that part of him, understood what needed to be done. “I just... didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Danny’s gaze softened. “Hey. Steve. Look at me. There is nothing, and I mean _nothing_ you could ever say or do that would make me stop caring about you or… or think any less of you, alright?” Unable to figure out what to do with hands that were longing to run in a reassuring gesture over Steve’s weathered skin, he clasped and unclasped them in his lap. “I want to be there for you as much as I can, but you got to start talking to me.” 

The sincerity in his eyes made Steve’s heart ache. Over the years, Danny had traveled to the most hostile countries in the world with the sole purpose of making sure he was okay and bring him home. He had seen him at his worst, and still chose to stay. No one else in his messed-up life had ever cared enough to do that.

But he wasn’t ready.

A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of his right eye, his mouth set in a straight, grim line.

He was worn-out, empty, devastated, but definitely not ready.

“I have to check on Gregers,” he said as he rose to his feet, feeling the urge to go and hide from the vulnerability he was experiencing.

Danny did the same, one hand outstretched in an attempt to stop him. “I’m not okay if you’re not okay, alright? So please talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk.” 

Talking meant acknowledging his feelings, and if he did that he was sure he’d shatter into a million pieces. 

“Steve, wait…”

He stopped, curled his hands into fists at his sides. “What the hell do you want know?”

Anger was easy. 

It pushed people away. 

Undeterred, Danny took a step towards him. “I want to know how to fix this,” he admitted, gesturing to indicate him, them.

“Joe’s dead. You can’t fix this,” Steve replied as he started to leave. 

“Beating people to a pulp isn’t gonna fix it either!”

Steve turned around, his hazel eyes sparking with barely restrained anger. “Whose side are you on?”

Danny looked back at him in shocked bewilderment. 

For a long, painful moment, he didn’t know what to say. Clearly, he had underestimated the extent of his friend’s grief and how a month of solitude had impacted his already messed-up psyche. Left to fend for himself in a world of hurt, he had regressed back to the man he was before they met.

“You could have died, okay?” he shouted, unable to stop himself. In the aftermath, the silence that filled the air around them seemed deafening. “You could have died,” he repeated, softer this time, as he took another step closer. “I nearly lost you. Again. And you didn’t even call. You want to make this about sides, I’m on whatever side keeps you alive.” Holding his gaze, watching him act like a trapped animal, Danny desperately tried to find the words to reach him. “You’ve got people in your corner, Steve. People who care about you. You know you don’t have to face this alone.”

Steve nodded.

His anger was slowly bleeding away, leaving behind a raw, overwhelming pain.

He knew.

And as soon as his ears stopped ringing, he’d tell Danny how grateful he was.

Until then, he’d check on his prisoner and focus on what he could control.

***

A few minutes later, exhausted as if he had run a marathon, Danny went back inside the house.

“Where’s Steve?” Catherine asked from her position near one of the windows. It was obvious she had witnessed the whole exchange. 

“He, uh… he went to check on Gregers.”

“He seemed pretty upset. What did you say to him?” 

Danny shrugged, looking for a place to sit down. Even after a month, the place was still a mess of bullet-ridden walls and destroyed furniture. “I said torturing people is not gonna make him feel any better.”

Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “Danny…”

“What?”

“He needs to do this.” 

“He needs to do this?” 

He knew overprotectiveness. Had mastered the art eons ago, but what she was saying didn’t make sense to him.

“Steve’s in pain. He needs answers.”

Giving up on the search for an undamaged, clean surface, he settled for leaning against the doorframe. “I know he’s in pain, Catherine. I understand that. That’s why I came here.”

“I’m just saying maybe you should’ve waited to talk to him.” 

Danny shook his head in disagreement. “No. No, I shouldn’t have waited. I have waited long enough.”

“He’s not ready to talk about it.”

Steve and Catherine had history. A complicated one, spanned over the course of two decades. She knew things about Steve he probably never would. Danny had accepted that, respected it even, but his own decade of experience in all things McGarrett was enough to tell him that his approach wasn’t as far-fetched as she thought. 

“He’ll never be ready to talk about it. I know because I’m the one who’s been trying to get him to open up for the last nine years. Sometimes, you just have to push and force the issue.” Catherine’s defensive posture, with her arms crossed over her chest, was a clear sign that she didn’t agree. Nevertheless, Danny went on. “Look, we’re different, alright? And I mean no disrespect to you at all but you don’t know him like I do. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he called you, and I’m glad he hasn’t been alone out here, but I am also glad you didn’t say anything to him. ‘Cause Steve’s scars, they need to heal, and they won’t unless you’ve got the time to stick by him after you open them up. And let’s be honest, you haven’t exactly been good at that.” 

The comment hit home and she flinched. On a normal day, it probably would’ve bothered him. Today it didn’t. His loyalty was to Steve and to Steve only. Plus, he’d never gotten over their last talk back in Oahu, when she had promised not to leave only to disappear from Steve’s life again a few hours later. “So that conversation we just had… it wasn’t much but it was something, and I think it actually did him good.”

“You’re right, we’re different,” she said with a tight-lipped smile as she walked past him.

A moment later, he heard the wooden door closing with a creak behind her.

***

_“Where is he? Huh? Tell me where he is right now!”_

_Steve’s fist slammed into Gregers’ chest, connecting with his ribs. Pain blazed up his arm but he went on, landing a series of well-placed hits with all the desperate strength he could muster._

_“Y-you’re… wasting… your time,” the man replied, his cracked lips almost failing at the first syllable. His face was a bloody mess, nose smashed and left eye swollen almost completely shut. The rest of his body wasn’t doing so well either._

_Steve backhanded him across the cheek. “We know about the shell corporation, Gregers. We traced the 100K in your offshore account, and we know that you’ve been in contact with the man who attacked me. See, he gave you up. He did the smart thing and he gave you up. Now, where’s Hassan? When was the last time you talked to him?”_

_Red-tinged spit drooled from the slack jaw. “I’m n-not… giving up my client.”_

_“You will. Trust me, you will.” Steve’s voice lowered almost to a whisper. “We got all the time in the world. I can keep doing this until you bleed to death, or—or until one of these cuts gets infected and sepsis sets in. I’m not stopping until you give me what I want.”_

_“You can’t…do this. You’re a…c-cop.”_

_Steve shrugged. “I don’t see a badge, Gregers. Do you? We’re not in Hawaii, I have no jurisdiction here.” A vein pulsed in his forehead, in sync with the beating of his racing heart. “You hired them. You hired the men that killed my friends, and you’re going to pay for this. They were good people. They had families, people who loved them. And now they’re dead because of you. See the irony in that? You’re a criminal, a worthless piece of crap and you’re still alive, and my friends are dead.”_

_Burning rage coursed through his body like poison, demanding release. “Where’s Hassan?” he growled as he struck again, flaying the man’s neck backward and splattering bright blood on both of their shirts. Gregers nearly fell off the chair, his tied hands and the force of the blows hindering his balance. “I swear to god if you don’t tell me what I need to know I’m gonna bury your dead body right behind this shed and no one will ever find you!”_

_A sneer formed on the lawyer’s face and he leaned forward, looking straight into his captor’s eyes. “Then g-go... ahead.”_

_Before his conscious brain could even realize it, Steve’s fingers reached for the man’s neck, curling around it. They squeezed, slowly cutting off air supply and blood flow to the brain, knuckles turning white as the pressure increased._

_Gregers bucked, thrashing wildly, eyes bulging wide with fear._

_It would only take seconds to render him unconscious, a few more to choke him to death. Steve just had to keep squeezing._

_He felt him go weaker and weaker in his grasp, saw the life start to drain out. Then he stopped, abruptly releasing the grip and leaving red, angry marks where his fingers had been._

_Gregers’ body slumped in his seat, chest rising and falling with each shallow breath he tried to draw in._

_Steve was panting just as hard._

_Cold sweat ran down between his shoulder blades as he felt the small room closing in on him._

_“I’m going to step outside now,” he said, managing to keep his voice menacing and steady. “And then I’m gonna come back, and you_ are _going tell me where he is.”_

A coughing bout brought him back to the present.

Steve watched the lawyer spit a mouthful of blood and try to breathe through the pain of his broken ribs.

The man’s screams still echoed in his ears. 

They reminded him of another time, another place, of heart-wrenching sounds tearing from his own throat.

He wasn’t proud of what he had done. If anything, now that the initial shock had passed, he was horrified by it. His brain had tricked him into thinking it had just been a means to an end, to find the man responsible for Joe’s death. Then, as the hours passed, he realized that the anger he felt was only aimed at himself and that no amount of torturing would bring his mentor back. 

The man who wore a badge to protect people and the vengeful soldier who had cut skin and broken bones were engaged in a battle, trading blows for control over Steve’s mind. 

Shame versus rage, revenge versus justice.

“They’re coming for you, Gregers.” he whispered darkly, giving the man a pat on the shoulder. He may have crossed the line, but he had made a promise to Joe and this man was going to pay for the harm he’d caused. “This is your last day as a free man. Enjoy it while you can.”

When he came out of the shed, he found Danny sitting at the picnic table. Just like earlier, after the last of his many torture sessions, he was staring at the mountains soaring up towards the sky, a pensive expression on his face.

He approached him hesitantly, stopping a few feet from him to keep a distance.

“Hey,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey,” Danny repeated.

“You, uh… you got a sec?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

Head still bowed, shoulders slumped, Steve struggled to do what his best friend had suggested: ask for help. “I want to show you something.” 

Danny stood up, stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. “Yeah, of course.”

“It’s… not far, if you’re up for a short ride.”

Studying his gaze, Steve noticed the brief flicker of surprise at the mention of a ride, quickly replaced by a mixture of trust, love and willingness to do whatever was needed. 

“Lead the way.” 

As they walked, Danny didn’t question why they weren’t taking advantage of the two fully functioning vehicles parked outside the house, or complain when he realized the aforementioned ride would be on a horse’s back. Instead, he followed Steve on a half-mile stroll down the road to a nearby ranch and then through acres of impossibly green land. 

For a man who had an opinion on everything, it meant a lot to Steve that he would do that for him.

When the lone ponderosa pine came into view, he felt the lump that had settled in his throat over the last few weeks grow twice its size. It stood tall, silhouetted against the mountains, as majestic as Steve remembered it. 

_‘It’s a thing of beauty. They say it’s one of the oldest trees in the state.’_

He swallowed hard as he dismounted the horse. 

It would undoubtedly outlive them all. 

“This is where he died,” he said softly, riveted by the sight. It was such a perfect setting: the sun sinking in the sky, the soothing breeze, the sounds of nature. A setting that for him would be forever tainted by the painful memories he associated with it. “I wanted to take him to the hospital, but he brought me here instead. Wanted to see it again before he…”

Danny came to stand by his side, his hand settling reassuringly on his best friend’s back. “He knew he was going to die.”

Steve nodded. He took a few steps forward, leaned against the tree’s trunk. 

“Joe changed the course of my life, Danny. He was there for me when no one else was. I don’t know… I don’t know how to move on.”

“You just do,” Danny replied. “You move on, but that doesn’t mean you’re leaving him behind, alright? You’re always gonna keep him in your heart and let me tell you, the heart? The heart’s a strong muscle, babe. It wants to keep going. Despite everything, it just keeps going. So let it. You’ll find that it can hold grief and hope at the same time, that you can think about Joe and be sad and— and happy at the same time. Eventually, the good will overcome the bad.”

Slowly, Steve let his body slide down until he was sitting on the ground. 

He desperately wanted to believe Danny’s words but knew he’d never be the same after this loss, and was under no illusion that time would eventually heal his wounds. Too many deaths, too much running into danger had almost burned him out completely. The only thought keeping him afloat was find Hassan and make him pay. 

“It’s my fault,” he stated. The dampness of the grass started to seep into his jeans and he shivered in response, the gray t-shirt he was wearing providing not enough cover against the late afternoon chill.

“No, it’s not.”

“I couldn’t save him.”

Sighing, Danny squatted down beside him. “Remember what you told me after my brother died? You told me not to second-guess myself. That you did that with your dad and Freddie but you knew you couldn’t have saved either of them. So I’m repeating it to you today so you can take your own advice.”

Steve bit down on his lower lip, feeling the familiar sting of tears in his eyes. He wanted to tell him that those words felt hollow to his own ears, that this situation was different, that the guilt he was feeling had nothing to do with the man who had pulled the trigger and everything to do with the woman he had failed to see for who she really was. Instead he hunched forward, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes.

Joe’s words kept echoing in his head. 

_‘I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become.’_  
_‘You’re the closest thing I ever had to a son, Steve, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you.’_

He had failed him.

He had failed the man who’d saved his life in more ways than he could count.

Going back to the place where he had died wasn’t going to erase the painful memories, or help him move on from it, yet for some reason he’d felt the need to see it again, drawn to it like a moth to the flame. He had been in Montana for four weeks and only today, in the wake of his best friend coming to see him, he’d finally found the courage to go. So he had taken the person he cared about most in the world, and brought him all the way to Joe’s favorite tree. 

Danny. 

The one constant in the whirlwind of his life.

“Thanks, Danny,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

“No, I mean... for coming out here. For sticking by my side and— choosing me when you could’ve walked away.”

“Of course I chose you. You’re my best friend, Steve, and I want to help you. I just... I just don’t know how.”

He saw the love in Danny’s eyes, so clearly displayed for him to drink in, to draw strength from.  
He had spent the last weeks mostly in a daze, but if there was one thing he regretted it was not calling him sooner, going through those long, painful days under the assumption that he could do it all by himself.

He couldn’t. 

Not anymore.

“This... it helps,” he admitted, absently rubbing his forehead. “You help. Just...just being here, being you. It helps.”

Danny nodded, lips parted in a sincere smile. 

Time seemed to slow after that. As the light of the day started draining away and all colors subdued, the two friends sat under the tree’s shade until the sun set, letting the beauty of that view reach under their skin and soothe their damaged souls.

When it was time to leave, Steve took one last breath of the cold, crisp air and hoped that the new, happier memory he had just made would help him face the challenges of the days ahead.

***

Hours later, after eating food that reminded him of one of Steve’s MREs in a silent, almost uncomfortable atmosphere, Danny found himself by the window, watching his best friend stand perfectly still by the charred remains of the old truck sitting outside the property.

Catherine had gone to bed, mumbling something about wanting to get as much rest as possible before the long flight to Laos. It brought up the sleeping arrangements problem, something he hadn’t even considered until that point. Three people in a wooden cabin built for one was challenging enough if you didn’t add the damage done by a half dozen gunmen armed to the teeth. 

Danny shrugged. If need be, he could always make good use of his rental, put the seat back and pretend he was still a teenager sleeping it off before going back home. 

The moon on full glow shone like a beacon in the night, its soft, ivory light outlining Steve’s hunched frame. 

He had shaved his beard before dinner, losing with it the few years it added to his face. A small sign that he was headed in the right direction. Then, in the two minutes it had taken Danny to bring his plate to the kitchen and rinse it under the faucet, he had left the living room they’d been all gathered in to go outside, only to stop midway to whatever destination he had in mind as if frozen by a spell. 

He had not moved from that spot in over twenty minutes. 

Wishing he had the will to keep his body still for even half that time, Danny decided enough was enough, grabbed the sheepskin’s coat that was hanging by the door and joined him outside. 

The warmth of the day had completely ebbed along with the light. All that was left now was the chill of the night and the promise of even darker, colder hours to come. 

He felt goosebumps prickle on his arms as he walked, making enough noise so Steve could hear him. When he was close enough, he cleared his throat and raised the arm that was holding the jacket. It occurred to him then that Steve would never wear something like that, especially in Hawaii’s 90-degree weather, and he mentally kicked himself as he draped what must’ve been Joe’s jacket across his partner’s shoulders.

Steve’s skin was cold to the touch. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, towards something only he could see, but visibly relaxed as the warmth slowly seeped into his bones, letting out a long, weary breath.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.”

It was a routine they had perfected over the years. Danny would ask to let him know that he was there, Steve would answer with a lie to thank him for his concern.

What Danny really wanted to know was how many nights he had spent outside, how many hours of self-inflicted wakefulness he’d punished himself with in the four weeks they had spent apart. He bit his tongue instead, shoving the question back down his throat because he knew it’d be the wrong thing to say. 

With Steve, it was often one step forward, two steps back. He would open up, share his feelings in a random moment of sincerity, and then retreat back into himself, wiping out whatever progress he’d just made. Danny had learned that early enough in their partnership to be able to act accordingly during those setbacks.

“So we’re going to Laos…” he said nonchalantly, as if it was perfectly normal to embark in an unsanctioned mission in a potentially hostile country.

“We’re going to Laos,” Steve repeated in a flat monotone.

“Are you going to share the details or am I gonna have to guess?” 

A muscle in Steve’s jaw twitched, and Danny feared he had pushed too far. 

Crickets chirped around them, filling he night with sounds until Steve felt ready to answer.

“Junior’s flying in tomorrow. I asked him to come help. He’s gonna meet us at the airport. I also called Harry, he’s got resources and connections we might need.”

“Langford?”

“Yeah. He’s already in Vientiane gathering intel, waiting for us.”

It was more information than Danny could’ve hoped for. 

He nodded, as pleased as one could be before going on a manhunt for a dangerous criminal. If there was one thing Steve was good at it was planning an op. Danny might complain about the execution at times, but he trusted those skills with his life. “Sounds like you’ve got everything under control.”

A half laugh, half pained sob came out of Steve’s mouth. 

He tipped his head back, staring at the moon shining down on them, silent for so long that Danny wondered if he was ever going to talk again. When he did, it was to surprise him with a totally unrelated reply.

“Why do you always ask me if I’m okay?”

Danny’s eyes widened. Leave it to Steve McGarrett to blindside him with the most intimate, genuine question he could think of. 

After mulling it over for a beat, he gave him the honest answer he deserved.

“Because I’m waiting for the day when you finally look me in the eye and tell me the truth.”

Steve seemed to appreciate it, acknowledging the truth and the meaning behind it. He had a lot of healing to do, and hoped his friend’s steady presence at his side would help him. 

His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to find the right words to say what was on his mind. “I don’t want to be like Joe. Like my father. I don’t want to spend my life alone, looking over my shoulders…”

“You don’t have to,” Danny replied in a serious tone. “You’re not Joe, and you’re not your father. You have a support system that they didn’t have, and you’re smart enough to learn from their mistakes.” He moved closer, reaching out his hand to squeeze Steve’s forearm. “Also you have me, and I am an amazing friend if I may say so,” he added with a smile.

Steve’s face showed relief, maybe even a little glimmer of hope. A soft blush touched his cheeks, barely visible in the darkness that surrounded them. 

He searched Danny’s eyes, and they finished the conversation without words. 

“What do you say we get some sleep?” Danny suggested after a few more moments of silence. It was close to midnight, and they were in for an early start the next morning.

“Okay.”

“Okay...” He scratched his forehead, curved his lips in a smile. “Hey, Steve, I’ve been meaning to ask... Catherine took the bed, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, uh... where does that leave us?”

“Recliner, floor,” Steve muttered as he headed inside.

“How about a rental?”

***

Sleep came fast and welcome.

Tucked into a sleeping bag, wired despite being exhausted, Steve tried to fight it with everything he had, his mind intent on second guessing yet again every decision he’d made leading up to Joe’s death. Lulled by the rhythm of Danny’s chest rising and falling and the sound of the wind rustling outside, he quickly lost the battle and let himself drift off.

When he woke up the next morning to streaks of sunlight filtering through the windows, he felt as refreshed as he hadn’t been in weeks. 

His hazel eyes opened and closed, blinking as his best friend’s shape came into view.  
Danny had a smile on his face, and was looking down at him with that soft, caring expression that always warmed his heart.

“What time is it?” he asked as he reached for the cup of coffee that was being offered to him, enjoying the heat spreading through his fingers.

“Six thirty.” 

He had slept for five hours straight. 

The kind of dreamless, regenerating rest he had longed for since he’d gotten there. 

Sitting up, he ran a hand over his face and took a sip of the dark liquid. The sense of weariness that had been accompanying him was still there. Steve doubted he would get rid of it anytime soon. It was like his brain got overwhelmed all over again at the start of each day, forcing him to relive the pain, the hurt, the loss as if it were anew.

“You good?”

Weariness aside, he felt ready. Focused.

“Yeah, I’m… better.” 

Danny held out one hand to help him stand. “Only you could give up a nice, comforting car seat to lie on the dirty floor of a cabin and wake up rested,” he teased.

Steve’s lips curved around the rim of the cup. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, but it told his friend he appreciated his attempt at levity. 

After he had turned down his suggestion, Danny had spent the night with him inside, curled up in Joe’s old recliner. One more thing to add to the ever-growing list of sacrifices he’d had to make since they became partners. Steve remembered them all, along with the very few times he had thanked him for it. 

He finished his coffee while gazing out at the horizon. Despite everything that had happened, he was going to miss this place. 

Joe had left it to him, in a letter he’d found in a drawer three days after his death. 

_‘Just in case you need a place to escape’_ , he had written, along with instructions on how to dispose of his body and more words of affection that Steve would treasure for as long as he lived. 

“I’ll be ready in a few,” he said, grabbing a pair of jeans and a clean shirt from one of the chairs nearby.

Danny nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna call Rachel. Tell her I’ll be gone a few days.” Then he remembered about the time difference. “Or I’ll just text her and say I’m gonna call later,” he shrugged. “Oh, by the way— uh, Steve? Please tell me we’re not flying to Laos in one of Frank Bama’s salvage wrecks...” 

“We’re not,” Steve reassured him, unable to hide the grin he felt tugging at his lips. This time, his friends were in for a _real_ treat. “Where’s Catherine?”

“She’s packing the car.”

The SUV was all loaded up by the time he came out of the cabin. 

In one hand, he held the backpack with his belongings. In the other, the jacket Joe had been wearing the day they got there. He had no use for it back home, but it was a tangible reminder of the man who’d been a second father to him, and he didn’t want to leave it behind.

Catherine smiled at him, her hand gently resting on his shoulder as she told him that they were ready to leave.

He put the bag in the trunk, took one last look around and shook his head when Danny offered him the keys to the SUV. 

The reaction was a surprised, almost awkward stare between Danny and Catherine that Steve did not understand. He ignored it, filing it away for later, and climbed in the back behind the driver’s seat.

His best friend appeared a moment later, a concerned expression on his face. 

“You ready?”

Straightening up in his seat, Steve stared at him with the steely determination that had kept him alive through war, countless aggressions and life-altering injuries. 

The same determination that would help him find Omar Hassan and keep his promise to Joe.

“Let’s do this.”

THE END


End file.
